D.C. Dead (Stone Barrington 22)

“I visited the crime scene myself, less than an hour after the body was discovered, and I have seen every investigative report my agents submitted. I haven’t seen any lack of enthusiasm for the investigation or any reason to question its conclusions. Now, please, tell me how I can help you.”

Dino opened his briefcase and extracted a brick inside a zippered plastic bag. He set it on Smith’s coffee table.

“What is that?” Smith asked.

“The murder weapon,” Dino replied.

“A brick?”

“Clearly. It has blood and hair on it and who knows what else? Maybe a trace of something from the killer.”

“Where did you get it?”

“It was one of many lining the flower beds adjacent to the site of the murder—the closest one to the body, as it happens. Your medical examiner’s report states that the murder weapon was a blunt instrument. Your agents failed to check the nearest blunt instruments available to the killer.”

Smith colored slightly. “That is embarrassing,” he said.

“We’d like it run through the famous FBI crime laboratory,” Dino said, “at the earliest possible moment.”

Smith picked up the phone on the coffee table and pressed a button. “Shelley, will you come in for a moment, please?”

A moment later the door opened and a quite beautiful blond woman entered. “Shelley, this is Mr. Stone Barrington and Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti. Gentlemen, this is Assistant Director Shelley Bach.”

Stone and Dino rose and shook her hand.

Smith picked up the plastic bag gingerly and handed it to his colleague. “Will you please hand-carry this to the lab? It may be the murder weapon in the Emily Kendrick case. Have them analyze the blood and hair on the brick for a match to Mrs. Kendrick and check the remainder of it for any possible traces of the murderer. Please impress upon the director of the lab the urgency of the situation. I’d like a report first thing tomorrow morning, even if it requires an all-nighter of the technician.”

“Yessir,” the woman said, and left the room.

Stone somehow knew immediately—he wasn’t sure how—that Kerry Smith and Shelley Bach were sleeping with each other, and probably had been for some time.

“That’s a very valuable piece of evidence,” Smith said. “I apologize for the negligence of my agents in not discovering it, and I thank you for bringing it in. What else can I do for you?”

“Mr. Smith,” Stone said, “we’ve noticed in our reading of the Bureau’s report that immediately upon the suicide of Brixton Kendrick, your agents stopped considering other possible suspects. Surely there must have been others under consideration.”

“Possibly,” Smith replied.

“May I ask, who were they? It might be useful for us to talk to them.”

“I’m aware that no other possible suspects were mentioned in the report, and it’s my assumption that the investigating agents were concerned that any such persons would almost certainly be employed in the White House, and they didn’t want to call media attention to specific persons there, since that might adversely affect those persons’ ability to do their jobs.”

“That was very delicate of them,” Stone said. “Perhaps we could speak to the agent or agents who made the decision to withhold those names from the report, and they could tell us directly, so that we might talk with the relevant people.”

Smith looked at the floor. “I must tell you that such a list would have to include virtually everyone working or present near the Oval Office at the time.” He cleared his throat. “Including the president of the United States.”

“I think it is unlikely that the president would be a credible suspect, since it is at his behest that we are here. If he murdered Mrs. Kendrick, he would be unlikely to personally reopen the investigation a year later.”

“I cannot but agree,” Smith said. He picked up the phone again and pressed a button. “Shelley, when you return to your office, please consult your notes and bring me a list of all the West Wing personnel who might have had access to the crime scene around the time of the murder.” He hung up. “Assistant Director Bach was the lead investigator,” he said.

It seemed to Stone that Deputy Director Smith relied on Assistant Director Bach for a great many things.

“I’ve left a message on her voice mail,” Smith said, “since she apparently has not returned from the lab as yet. Do you have any other questions?”

“I think we might have a few of Assistant Director Bach,” Stone said.

Smith looked at his watch. “Where are you staying?”

“At the Hay-Adams.” Stone gave him the suite number.